


Learning to come to his voice

by imaginationandheartbreak (alexgrey)



Category: Doctor Who RPF
Genre: F/M, Mattex, Mattex kinkathon, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-15
Updated: 2013-08-15
Packaged: 2017-12-23 14:17:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/927488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexgrey/pseuds/imaginationandheartbreak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was easy to think that behind Alex Kingston’s flirtiness was a smart woman in bed reading de Sade, wondering how he built his imaginary world and how she fit in. Matt imagined her stroking herself, now Justine, now Juliette.  Pulling at her nipples and spreading her legs wide for imaginary restraints. What does a strong woman holding it all together -  single mother, transatlantic commuter, always-on actor - want? A night off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Learning to come to his voice

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Mattex Kinkathon (Prompts: 1. Spanking/flogging, 3. Begging).   
> This is my first ever fic. Be kind. Beginning is tame, but kink rapidly follows.

 

He’d tried to kiss her.  He’d fumbled toward her, had reached to cup her face, his fingers tangling, somehow, in Alex’s hair, causing her to pull back at the last second, blush and panic tracing her features, with him still leaning in. It wasn’t hot and they’d mumbled and parted, Matt cursing softly to himself. He’d locked eyes with Alex, then, and closed the space between them again, brushing a kiss against her lips, tentative and soft. He’d moaned, grateful. But she’d broken the kiss almost immediately. “I don’t think we should, darling,” she’d said, laughingly, using a theatrical ‘I would eat you alive’ purring voice.  Out of context it’s a maddeningly sexy voice but here, now, it’s so put on, such a for-the-camera-voice: the opposite of intimacy. Fuck. And a small laugh trying, trying to be kind, maybe, and a hint of something else he can’t name and the echo of that laughter makes Matt’s shoulders drop even as he lifts his chin forcing himself to meet her eyes and giving her a small serious smile, softened by sadness, but still true: 

“God, I’m sorry Alex – I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“It’s more than ok, darling,” she pats his arm like he’s a child. “Already forgotten,” she says a little too brightly and he turns and walks out of her flat into the hallway.

She makes him feel 16 years old.  So nervous. So wanting.

But Matt mostly isn’t that boy. Not in bed, in any case. It was only around Alex that he felt pulled into juniority.  He was actually very good at giving women what they wanted and most of them, at least now, wanted HIM. Even thinking about it he felt himself harden a bit and a blur of faces, fucking him from on top, kneeling in front of him, taking him into an eager mouth, spread out beneath him and panting his name came into view, like snapshots but blurring again – fuck – into everyday scenes with a single face: Alex Kingston’s. Alex running lines, Alex laughing at him stumbling over an electrical cord, Alex drinking tea, Alex worrying her bottom lip, Alex smiling charitably at his attempt to kiss her. Oh, Fuck.

Her laughter is  _so_  not what he wants.  And, he hopes, not what Alex wants either. Not really. Pretending for a living makes everyone liars, he knows, and Alex is a very good pretender. A great one, even. Well, she probably  _was_ laughing at him, that part, sadly, was probably true, but the bravado, the I’ll-eat-you-alive purr – that was pure put-on, a lie between them they both see. Underneath it, something truer: a simmering, longstanding, mutual interest.

And Matt had to admit he was so much more than a bit interested. He was burning interested. He was watching-her-interviews-on-YouTube interested, staring-at-the-spot-she’d-occupied-long-after-she’d-walked-away-just-to-breathe-the-air-she’d-been-breathing interested.

And oh, he knew, just knew, they would ignite in bed.  If only he had the chance to convince her.  What does an experienced, multi-orgasmic woman pushing 50 need? A younger man, not some guy hopped-up on Viagra. No, not just any younger man. Someone who adores her, as well as a partner who can keep up. Him.

Matt sighed.  Fuck. Why did he want her so much? And when hadn’t he? When did it start? It was everything – not just the green-blue eyes, but the questions behind them, not just the able hands, flying to her face in laughter, but the force and care behind them, not just the energy of her amazing body (slamming), but the holding beauty, the forced stillness when she bit her bottom lip. And, c’mon – that ‘A Taste of My Life’ clip he’d seen on the Internet? ‘ _Who would you most like to have dinner with?’ ‘The Marquis de Sade.’_   Jesus, Alex.

Was that just for show, too? He didn’t know. But it was easy to think not – that behind the flirtiness of the comment was a smart woman in bed, reading de Sade, wondering how he built his imaginary world and how she fit in. He imagined her stroking herself, now Justine, now Juliette.  Pulling at her nipples and spreading her legs wide for imaginary restraints. What does a strong woman holding it all together -  single mother, transatlantic commuter, always-on actor - want? A night off.

Ok. Decided, then. Take two. Matt showers, tries on three different t-shirts, breathes out. He can at least act like the man he suspects she needs, at least tonight. That’s something he feels confident about. But will she let him?

Matt runs his hand through his hair worriedly. Already embarrassed himself once today, how much worse can it get?  Much worse, actually. Much, much worse if he really thinks about it. But the not trying, leaving it like this, is unfathomable now.  This door will close if they go back to work tomorrow and she pretends nothing happened.  His jeans are already tight thinking about her. Not just now. Almost all the time if he really admits it.  He can’t go around set half-hard for her forever.  _Ok Matt_ , he tells himself:  showtime.

He knocks at Alex’s door and hears soft footsteps – slippers? – approach the keyhole. “Alex?”

“Matt?”

She sounds… what? Surprised? Aggravated? God, he hopes not. The door opens and his eyes look at hers with an intensity even he doesn’t expect, travelling across gorgeous loose curls, past those eyes and down to a jean shirt, jean skit and bare feet.  She really has no fashion sense, he decides, but she always looks so distinctly HER and he loves it. She begins, faltering, “Matt, I thought we’d” and he closes the space and kisses her with burning need; greed. Her mouth opens, but just a bit too slowly.  He tastes her – amazing – her mouth soft, hot, promising, but she’s pulling away. Again.

This time he presses a firm hand to the small of her back and pulls her close. He hopes he exudes confidence this time.   _Act confident, Matt._

When he leaves her lips he presses a single finger to them. “Don’t talk, Alex. We’ve talked enough.  Let’s start over. Tonight you need to let me talk and tell you what you need. Can you do that?”

Her eyes widen. Shocked? He can’t tell.  In the small silence he repeats himself: 

“Can you do that, Alex? Can you follow instructions?”

She nods, hesitantly, testing, unsure, almost looking like she’s going to smile, but changing her mind, willing to give him this chance. He drinks in that look – confused, but willing. For him. Like he’s earned this small minute.  _Don’t blow it_ , he tells himself.

“Alex, you can tell me to go right now, and I will, or you can unbutton your top, take it off and give me a safeword.”

Everything stops. Everything.  Is he wrong? He’s not breathing.  It’s a huge gamble and he. Can’t. Even. Breathe. He’s forced himself not to look away from her, though. His eyes are narrowed, demanding – braver than he feels, he hopes. He’s an actor, after all, at his most important audition.  He lowers his voice:  “Alex: decide.”

He can barely believe – Oh. My. God. – when her hands, shaking, start to undo the buttons on her shirt.  Her eyes haven’t left his, her mouth parting almost imperceptively. Holy Fuck. She lets her jean shirt slide to the floor and Matt goes through the possibilities of what will happen next. In his mind this was just about as far as his fantasy stretched, but he does know what to do. He does. He has to. He’s already half hard, so needing her. Needing this. It feels like he’s found a bloody  **key**  to her. There she is – Alex Kingston, gorgeous, waiting for _his_  direction. In her bra. 

“Good girl. Safe word?” Alex swallows. Alex Kingston, swallowing nervously. In her bra. His heart does a happy dance, only sobered by his desperate need to please her. To give her… what? What she needs?  No… everything. To empty himself out. And give her everything.

“Juliette,” she whispers. Oh, perfect. Heart soaring. He  **sees**  her. Shared text.  He’s not positive if it’s de Sade or Shakespeare, but she’s both. He wants to smile so badly, but keeps it inside. He’s got this.

“There you go,” he says, feigning stern. “Stay still.” He reaches behind, unclasping her bra, taking just a second to fondle the lace, and letting it drop to the carpet, too.   Oh, God – her breasts are gorgeous, Alex’s chest heaving, pebbled nipples waiting. He wants to drop his mouth to them, taste her, but he can’t:  _focus, Matt. Fuck – focus_. Instead, he unzips himself and reaches for his now throbbing erection. He can’t take her nipple in his mouth, it would ruin everything, but this part he’s chosen does mean that he can watch her and touch himself, make her watch him. He’s pretty sure it does, anyway. He reaches into his underwear and strokes himself. Holds himself.

“Here’s what’s going to happen, Alex. You’re going to take off your skirt,” he says, eyes on her eyes, “then I‘m going to put you across my knee and you will ask me to spank you.”     

Her lips part and she ghosts her teeth across her bottom lip. He can barely think. He waits. 

“Will it hurt?” she asks, barely a whisper.  It’s her own voice – no purr, no little girl pretending. It’s her.

Oh. Fuck. His head drops, he will come in his hand if he doesn’t let go of his cock right now.  So he does. And just looks at her – Alex Kingston and that hair, those eyes, those hips, those perfect breasts, those sinful lips. Everything he needs.  _Exhale, Matt._

“Yes, Alex, it will hurt.  Ask me now.”

“Please, Matt”

“Please what, Alex?

“Please, put me over your knee.”  Her eyes are on his erection. 

 “Look at me.” He lifts her chin. “And?”

 “And spank me.”  

The words tumble out with a small moan and a hitched intake of breath at the end. He can’t tell if there is mischief behind those eyes, but there is definitely longing.

“Step out of your skirt.” He’s almost undone just looking at her. She looks so unbelievable. Gorgeous, of course.  But more.  And he can’t tell how much is an act for her in this or how much is real. He does and does not care. He wants this so badly.

_Alex’s head is swimming.  The words leave her mouth… unbelievably they leave her mouth like lines in a script. What the fuck is she doing? She’s just asked Matt – lovely Matt Smith, friend, co-star and someone she had just hours earlier pegged as a pretty fumbling flirt – to spank her, the words so hot and dirty and pleading on her lips. She had not planned to sound like that at all. Oh shit. She’s so wet, this is so unexpected… past the point of no return but, oh, god, the possible regret._

“Alex, look at me.” She does.   _When did his voice become so low, speaking directly to her cunt? When did he ever sound like that? Clumsy, happy Matt who couldn’t properly steal a kiss? And what he was doing to her now? God._ She looks at him. She can’t get her skirt off fast enough. She wants to pull down her underwear, too, but he hasn’t asked.

“Come here.” She hesitates only a second. Then submits to his request. To this. To him. This isn’t anything she fantasized about him and, oh she had fantasized… Matt was wise, and funny and kind and so talented, his body strong, those hands … but her fantasies about him were always romantic, vanilla, not quite making it… him so young, her on top. Teaching him. Even her fantasy had felt like too much work. Exhausting.

But THIS. This is a gift. Heart beating in anticipation, imagining herself being made to cry out for him.  Letting him decide, consequences his.  God, it’s been so long. And oh, he’s beautiful.  That was never the problem.  All long, strong lines, lithe body, molded through years of athletics.  She thinks she might come without him even really touching her. They’re inches apart now and Matt’s hand reaches roughly between her legs to cup her cunt, his breath catching.

Yes, Matt, her eyes reach his to say, pushing back against his final unspoken questions. I’m dripping for you. For this. What are you going to do about it?

Matt can’t stop his fingers from pushing her underwear aside – “oh, so wet, Alex.” And he pushes two fingers into her. Fast. And thrills at how hot and clenching she is, the way she moans into the small shared space between their bodies: oh, Juliette.  

“Oh, you need this.” His voice is still measured, low and promising and thrilling. _He had promised it would hurt.  She watches his fingers emerge from her folds and disappear now between Matt’s lips. His incredible lips.  And now his long fingers are at the edge of her own mouth and she opens her lips and takes them in, greedily.  She wants to kiss him. So badly.  The difference between Matt this afternoon and Matt this evening can be measured in light years, she thinks.  She moves in._

But Matt, instead, grabs her roughly by the wrist, leads her to the kitchen chair. “Take your underwear off”, he says brusquely and Alex obeys instantly.  Unable to wait a second longer, Matt sits down and pulls a naked Alex onto his lap.  He’s impossibly turned on by being still dressed, unzipped, but fully clothed. Kingdom for a camera.

 “I’m going to have you count now, Alex. To 25.”

 He raises his right hand and comes down so hard on the soft flesh of her ass, so gorgeous and round, while pressing down firmly on her back with his left hand, watching the halo of her hair almost touch the ground. She can’t help but cry out:

 “Matt!” Not the safeword.

 “Alex, I told you I want you to count.”

 “One” she whimpers.

 “Oh, my good girl” His hand comes down again, on the other cheek, even harder.

 “Two. Thank you.” Oh, she’s done this before.

“Oh my bad, bad girl,” he almost sings to her, rubbing a soft circle over her reddening ass.  He feels like it’s finally ok to let on just a bit how much he’s enjoying this.

She wriggles against his cock.  He’s SO so hard. He knows she can feel him.  He raises his hips against her so Alex’s clit can make better contact.  He’d love to put her on her knees in front of him now and take her hair in his hands and kiss her. Then fuck that beautiful mouth of hers, a cavern of desire and poetry and expertise, the threshold of screams and I love yous. But he said 25… And these might well go down as the best fucking minutes of his whole fucking life, so he leans back into the scene.

“Do you like this, Alex?” he ventures, hoping not to break the rhythm but needing her to say it, thinking the word ‘yes’ from her lips might be the dirtiest thing he will ever hear.

“Yes.”

 “More?”

 “Yes.” A moment’s pause. “Please.”

 Matt’s hand reaches high and comes down hard again – left, right left. “3, 4, 5”. He surprises himself with how hard he wants to hit her. How much he likes this.  His hips are thrusting. Could he come hitting her?

Alex’s voice tries to be steady, but Matt can tell she’s struggling. She’s also wiggling against his lap, answering his need with her own. Oh. God. The picture on his lap. The picture in his head. He’s about to come in his fucking pants spanking her if he’s not careful.

“Do you feel how hard you make me, Alex?” he ventures. 6-7-8.  “So, so hard for you. Do this for me, love.”

Matt reaches his left hand across her body to stroke her neglected nipples, rolling them roughly between his fingers.  _Fuck, Alex, I’ll give you everything, everything love, you have no idea, just stop acting, Alex._    _Let me, Alex._  He’s glad he can’t see her face so he’s not tempted to say that part out loud.  Instead he ventures in response to her moaning: “You’re not in charge here, you can’t be. Tell me you know this.”

9-10-11 her whole body is shaking now, her ass so red.  Soft sobs accompany the counting now, but still no safeword, just a small, surprising “thank you” and Matt reaches a hand to the face he can’t see, and brushes a tear from her cheek.

With his other hand he reaches between her legs, circling her clit with three fingers, entering her with his thumb. He moves from her cheek to grab her nipple again with his left hand. Oh, so gorgeous and so open underneath him, softly sobbing and rocking into his hand now. He pulls out his thumb and pumps three fingers into her:

“Don’t come.”

 Matt twists his wrist and rubs small circles over her clit with his thumb. The angle’s a bit awkward. “Lift up,” Matt growls, and she does. And for the first time he really feels, truly feels, like he owns her desire.  He’s finding it hard to keep up the aloof persona, though, with his fingers inside her, imagining his tongue there, tasting her, her legs over his shoulders.  _Focus._  Reluctantly he moves his fingers from her, leaving her to move her ass greedily, rewarded with a small mewl, a strangled ‘Please, Matt.”

 “Alex, ask me to keep going.”

 “Keep going.”  Alex’s voice is a tiny, tight whisper, but she wriggles her cunt against Matt’s lap again and raises her ass toward his hand. Instead of hitting her he strokes her, so softly.  “Oh, Matt. God. Please” she’s almost screaming it now.  Between them, her begging is electricity.

“Tell me why you need this.”  Alex pauses only a second before she resumes rocking into his hand, words pouring hot and loose from her mouth as Matt draws his hand back high in the air, ready to reward.

“Because I need you.” 12.

“And I want this.” 13.  He hits her harder than he’d intended, drawing a gasp. Still no safeword, though. Oh fuck. He’s never been so hard, he thinks, watching her, touching her, sharing her secrets. Instead, she keeps talking, moaning, tearful:

“I didn’t trust you.” 14.

“I should have let you fuck me when you wanted me.” 15.

And in that second the afternoon is erased. He has her.

“Oh yes, you should have, Alex.  And you will now. When I want to fuck you, you’re mine to fuck, Alex?”

By way of answer he feels her shudder underneath him, stifling a scream.  Damn her, she’s come already.  He readies himself to say something in an angry voice but – Oh. Fuck. – that was the hottest thing he’d ever seen.  It made both his cock and his heart twitch.  “Get onto your knees, Alex.” He makes his voice sound cold and loud.  Tries to, anyway – his best Pandorica voice. Alex scrambles off his lap immediately, kneeling in front of him, eyes dark and unfocussed, words forming in her mouth.  “No, all fours.  Turn around, Love. Don’t speak.  You’re to come with permission, only, and you come screaming my name. Understood?” oh. You. Will.  _(Oh, Alex)_.

He gives her just a second to recover, ridding himself of pants and underwear and kneeling down behind her:  16 17 18 19 hard, using both his palm and the back of his hand.

More sobs. Matt reaches between her legs, checks that she is still dripping, holds himself at her entrance and pushes into her in a single motion, immediately beginning to fuck her, frantically. He doesn’t care if she comes now. Better if she doesn’t, if he can stand to make her wait.  He’s a bit rubbish at making her wait, obviously … he almost blushes thinking of how THAT will always be his memory of her first orgasm with him…   _she comes just knowing she’s mine to fuck…_ but he can definitely see the merit.  He just knows he needs to come or he’ll die. And in only a few strokes he feels himself tipping over the edge and he grabs her hair and arches her into him, screaming her name. “Alexalexalexalexalex.” He can feel her shattering under him, too, hot walls squeezing, fluttering but she bites back her screams and he pretends not to notice. This time.  Loves that she can’t  _not_  come. Part of him wants to slow down, to let her recover, but another part of him delights in her maybe being too sensitive for this, and fucking her anyway, past the point where she can stand it.

_Oh, fuck, Alex_. He pulls out and immediately sets himself to finishing her spanking. He’d promised 25.  _And then I will make you come over and over into tomorrow._

20 21 22 rain down and he starts to speak now, words half strangled, left hand weaving through her hair:

“Because you need this.”  _Me._

“Because you like this and I need to see you know it.”  _Let me._

“Because you are the most gorgeous woman I have ever ever seen.”  _Known._

“Oh god, Matt!” She’s crying out now and they enter into a new rhythm, speaking forgotten, Matt alternates between hitting and smoothing his hand across her ass: 23, 24, 25.

Alex’s ass is so red and she’s sobbing, really crying now, saying his name over and over.  His hand stills. “Shh. So, so beautiful,” he says, meaning it. He’s at a bit of a loss, really.  What comes next when all he wants to do is bloody worship her? His hand travels to his cock, already hardening again under his fingers.

But maybe she needs something else now.  _‘Oh god, TELL ME, Alex”_ he pleads, silently, pulling her onto his lap now, brushing curls from her eyes, finally slipping two fingers back into her cunt, feeling her hot against him, now pumping languidly, in a holding pattern, his hand gentled, his mind reeling.  He has Alex Kingston, screen  _legend_ and amazing, funny colleague in his lap, looking utterly exhausted, spent, tear-stained and preternaturally gorgeous and perfect. He has never had better sex in his life.  _This is the best night of my life, Alex_ , he can’t say. He grips his other arm around her waist like he’s holding a whole world.  They’d made this.  It’s a moment more before he registers her hips rocking needfully. Alex lifts her eyes to his and opens her mouth in want:

“Please, please Matt, can I come?”  _For you_.

Prayer answered.  He guides her capable hand to his cock and immediately swells into it as she pumps.  “Oh, my dirty, beautiful, girl.  I need to fuck you now. I’m going to fuck you here on my lap and you’re going to come saying my name, understood?”

He guides her hips and pulls her down onto his erection, hands only ghosting on her skin, letting her find the rhythm, knowing sitting will be painful. Maybe for days. He feels himself getting impossibly harder inside her just thinking about it. Staring into her eyes.

 “Oh yes. Yes, yesyesyesyes… MATT!!!!”

“Keep saying my name. “ He can barely talk now, barely breathe, trying so hard now to hold on for her, but she’s too wet, too tight, those unbelievable breasts bouncing, his name on her lips like a prayer.

_What the hell is this, even? Her body feels unbelievable, unbelievably his, and only a few hour earlier she’d been politely showing him the door, a fun impossibility, lovely, but not worth the risk. But now THIS. What the hell? She hears soft sobs and wonders if that could possibly be Matt but it’s HER. Where does he end and where does she start? His hands are all over her and he’s inside her he could just tell her to come now and she would this second, her body already learning to come to his voice, but, oh, he’s reaching now with his fingers and stroking her clit and his lips are pressing against her nipples and she’s crying out his name._  She’s waited four years for this.  _Oh, Matt, your name._

“Come for me, Alex,” Matt chokes.  Alex comes crying his name, collapses across him, her orgasm shattering.  _Mine._

Shh… I’ve got you, love. Let me. He holds her impossibly close, knowing.  He’d banked years of trust to get this right.  He finally lets himself smile and his smile finds her slightly wicked one and they may never stop smiling.

_My heart too open to him_ , Alex thinks, bringing her mouth down to his for their first real kiss.   


End file.
